


Cry Out For More

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Series: Haunted [3]
Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-02
Updated: 2011-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-15 08:04:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames and Ariadne surprise Arthur on the job. Ariadne has plans for Arthur...</p><p>For the prompt: <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/13659.html?thread=30213211#t30213211">"I do not beg." "You will."</a> This could be dark and angsty or straight up porn. One guess as to what I chose. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cry Out For More

Eames and Ariadne touched down at the Borg al Arab airport with assumed names and only carryon luggage. Alexandria was a Mediterranean city, so the weather was warm and mild all year round. They had the location of Arthur's hotel room, and Ariadne's delight in going to see him was infectious. They had waited a bit before booking the flight, just to be sure that the operation wouldn't move out of Alexandria. There would be little point in flying there from Paris if Arthur had to head elsewhere.

He didn't suspect a thing when Ariadne had asked the night before if he was going to still be in Alexandria for the rest of the job, merely huffed and asked if Eames was taking advantage of his absence already.

Scouting ahead, Ariadne called the hotel asking for Arthur under his current assumed name. The phone rang endlessly in his hotel room, so they felt safe enough breaking into it. When Arthur returned from whoever he was meeting, it would be a surprise to find them in his room, waiting for him. She was literally almost giddy at the prospect.

"Ah, young love," Eames commented from his seat at the desk. His drawled voice revealed his affectionate amusement at Ariadne bouncing around in anticipation.

Eames liked Ariadne. She was a joy to be around, especially if he wasn't in a maudlin sort of mood. It was hard to keep that mood up around her, if only because she was so disarmingly honest about her genuine affection for him. Arthur, though they had been separated for several days now, was much the same way. He accepted Eames' sarcasm without slinging too much of it back, and even then it wasn't out of hand. They needled each other, knew where each others' buttons were and respected each others' skills. Before all of this started, Eames would have said that Arthur and Yusuf were the only friends he had in the business. The two of them had asked only the truth of him, though that was a much more difficult request than they understood it to be. Half the time he didn't know what the truth was; he kept sarcasm and confidence about him like a shield, and their ability to slip past that defense was startling. He hadn't seen when it happened.

She snatched up one of the decorative pillows and tossed it at his head playfully, and Eames merely caught it before lobbing it back at her. "So, what's the plan for our Arthur?"

There was that almost-blush in her cheeks again. She wasn't much for makeup, so it showed clearly on her porcelain skin. "I hadn't thought that far ahead. I just wanted to surprise him. He sounded so miserable on the phone."

"When he wasn't jacking off to the sound of your voice?" Eames asked. He laughed when Ariadne threw the pillow at his head again. "Really, you need better projectiles. These are too easy to catch."

Ariadne snorted and came closer, grasping the tie around his throat and pulling on it. She wasn't choking him, but there was something about the possibility of it that sent his blood racing in his veins. He would never doubt that Ariadne would abuse that kind of power over him. The thought of giving up a little control was enough to excite him.

"You enjoy winding me up," she said, her face hovering inches from his own. He nodded, grinning at her unrepentantly. "Why is that?"

"I like what you do to me," Eames murmured. He hadn't even thought about the answer or weighed the consequence of the words. Funny how that trust thing worked, given that he had been on edge for years. "You make it abundantly clear just who I belong to."

"Oh? And who's that?"

"You. And Arthur, but he hasn't made it quite so clear as you do." He grinned up at her, enjoying her proximity.

"You like me bossing you around?" she asked, brows knit.

"I do enjoy a woman that knows herself well." It wasn't quite an answer, but possibly the closest he could come to explaining it. He hadn't exactly ever thought of this before, after all. Sexuality and bedroom games were often just one more way to get close to a subject, and he sometimes had to do things he wouldn't have ordinarily thought of doing on his own. Having Ariadne take control of him made his breath run a little faster. "I'm sure you're that kind of woman, yes?"

"If you weren't getting over a serious wound..." Ariadne began in a vaguely threatening tone of voice.

Eames closed his hands over her waist and pulled her close. "It's just a leg wound. And I'm not limping quite so badly." He flashed her a charming smile, the same kind he had used thousands of times before, but she wasn't fooled in the slightest. "What? You were implying my sexual prowess could be undone because of a mere flesh wound."

She snorted and pushed him back into the chair. "You're _horrible,"_ she replied, shaking her head with a smile on her face. She made no move to push his hands away from her, which was all the encouragement he needed to pull her down for a kiss. "Arthur will yell at us both if you break that wound open again."

"Then I'll just have to be very, very careful."

Ariadne shook her head and had a wicked gleam in her eye. "No, that means you only get to watch."

Eames playfully snorted and clutched at his chest. "Ah, you wound me, my love. The terrible things you put me through..."

She swatted him and laughed, a rich sound that went straight to his groin. He could tell that she was serious, that she didn't want him hurting himself. It was just a leg wound, and really, it had been nine days since he had been shot. He'd been through worse and was still able to have sex. Still, it was nice having that kind of concern directed at him. He wasn't used to someone genuinely worried about his welfare. He hadn't yet asked if it was true that Arthur tracked his movements to be sure he was safe. He had never asked it of Arthur, but it did seem like something the point man would do without asking. He was far too organized and methodical for Eames' comfort sometimes; that made it harder to keep track of his own lies and omissions. Arthur already saw through his bullshit far too easily.

They didn't have long to wait for Arthur's return. He didn't seem to notice them at first, but on second glance his right hand was in his jacket pocket and it looked weighted down. Eames approved of the motion, though he could see exactly how tired Arthur was. His messenger bag looked heavy, and there was a weariness in the slope of his shoulders as he locked the door and sighed. Arthur removed his hand from his jacket pocket once he saw them and reached into his pants pocket, likely for his totem. Eames would have laughed if it wasn't a potentially serious question. He would have done the same thing.

Ariadne came forward and simply held him. After a moment, his arms circled her shoulders and he let out a happier sigh. "Surprise," she said, grinning up at him.

"Somehow I should've known you'd come," he said with a wry smile.

"It was Eames' idea," Ariadne told him, grasping his tie to pull him down while she stood on her tip toes. Their kiss was tender and sweet to watch. Eames felt a slight pang that he was sitting there, observing. It made him feel like an interloper. "We missed you."

"I haven't even been gone that long," Arthur protested, though there was a pleased lilt to his lips as he took off his messenger bag.

"Long enough," Ariadne murmured, pulling him toward the bed. She winked at Eames playfully. "And I've got a wonderful idea to relax you."

"Oh, you do?" he asked in playfully arch tones. "Am I supposed to be frightened of this?" he asked, allowing her to lead him forward.

"No, you're supposed to beg," Ariadne told him, pushing him down on the king sized bed.

"I do not _beg,"_ he said, sounding vaguely affronted. Eames wanted to laugh even as he looked over at them hungrily.

"You will," Ariadne replied confidently.

There was something about that tone of voice that seemed to go to Arthur's groin as well. His lips parted slightly as he smiled up at her. "So what are the rules, then?"

"You and your rules," she laughed affectionately. She slid a hand down his shirt and then cupped him through his trousers. "How about I just make them up as I go along?"

"That works in dreams," Arthur began, tugging gently on her hair, "but if you're planning on making me beg, what am I begging for?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, eyebrow arched. She squeezed him slightly. "You're going to beg me to fuck you while Eames watches. And if you're really good, he gets to join in and play, too." She grinned at him, pleased with herself.

Arthur merely smiled at her and stretched out on the bed with his hands folded behind his head. "Do your worst then," he challenged.

"You've called me dangerous before, Arthur," she reminded him with a sensual smile. "And since you like rules, I'll have to make some up."

"Sounds fair," he said reasonably, though there was a rather smug smile on his face. He still thought he could outlast her, which Eames thought was hopeless. If there was anything he knew about Ariadne for sure by that point, it was that she was stubborn as all hell. Especially if she thought she was right.

"The first rule is that you can't touch me," she said, her voice low and sultry. She clambered up onto the bed, and Eames couldn't help but watch the sway of her backside as she leaned down over Arthur, the lucky bastard. "I can touch you all I like, but you can't touch me."

"You're the one asking me to touch you all the time," Arthur replied easily. "We'll see how long this lasts."

Eames snorted. "Darling, this is going to be a fun show."

Ariadne undid the tie and tossed it aside, then slowly undid the buttons, sure to let her fingers brush across his chest. It had the air of practice, as if this was something they'd done a thousand times before. Perhaps they had; Eames knew they had been together for at least a year now, and he didn't imagine that they had been chaste before he came along. While they took pains to make him feel included, they could certainly occupy themselves if he wasn't there.

Shirt spread wide, Ariadne merely stroked Arthur's chest in slow, even strokes. She leaned down to kiss his chest, and Eames wished she had worn a skirt. He would have had a very lovely and direct view underneath it. He had to settle for merely imagining what he would find there as she ran her tongue along Arthur's chest and flat nipples. He knew how that would feel, knew how it was nothing more than a tease for everything else Ariadne could do with that talented tongue. Arthur kept grinning at her, watching her with hooded eyes. He was willful, that was for sure. He was as certain he wouldn't break as Eames was certain he eventually would.

The three of them were all stubborn and loyal. They would never break for anyone but each other.

She was very slow and methodical, until Eames could see Arthur's skin glisten slightly. She kissed and licked and stroked every inch of exposed skin, her tongue dipping down into his navel when she approached the waistband of his pants. Arthur was very obviously happy with this kind of attention, but it was a slow kind of burn. It wasn't going to leave him begging for her touch, and the three of them knew it. Ariadne unbuckled his belt slowly, fingers brushing across his burgeoning erection. "Someone's glad to see me," she said with a pleased lilt.

"He's always happy to see you," Arthur said with a laugh. Eames just grinned at them both, at the easy way they teased each other. He was starting to be pulled into their relationship, though it was still new and strange for him. It felt almost like he was learning what they wanted from him by observing what they wanted from each other. He couldn't shut off his need to observe and catalog, that need in the back of his mind to figure out motivations and try to predict what the next step would be. He almost felt like he should warn them, that there was nothing real beneath the surface, that he couldn't tell them the truth because he didn't know it himself.

Ariadne didn't take off Arthur's pants right away, and merely let her fingers ghost over him through the cloth as she kissed the stripe of skin over his waistband. "We've got all night, don't we?" she asked sweetly, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"Well, I didn't make any appointments to meet anyone tonight, if that's what you mean. But I _should_ get some sleep before meeting up with Adeeb in the morning."

"Adeeb Haroun?" Eames asked, eyebrow lofted.

"That's the one. You know of him?"

"I know of a lot of people," Eames replied vaguely. He watched Arthur frown at him, feeling distanced somehow, but smiled as Ariadne smacked his stomach with the firm command to pay attention to her and not to business. "Good advice, that. I think you should follow it."

"Eames..."

"If you're so determined to be helpful," Ariadne said sharply, sliding her hand inside Arthur's pants and starting to draw them down his hips, "then get over here and make sure Arthur stays still and doesn't touch me." She looked at Arthur with a wicked smile. "You _are_ going to beg me, Arthur."

The tailored pants were casually tossed aside along with his boxers and socks. Ariadne kept her same slow strokes across the skin of his thighs as she dropped little kisses along the crease where his leg met his torso. She let the very tip of her tongue trail down the length of his cock but made no move to take it into her mouth. Eames merely smiled at the small frustrated noise Arthur made deep in his throat and settled down on the bed beside him, watching. Arthur was very good at keeping himself contained, at not giving too many things away. Not with words, anyway. Eames could see the building tension in him, the struggle not to just give in so that Ariadne would move faster. He let a hand slide down Arthur's arm, a ghost of a touch, and it was enough to make Arthur shiver.

Ariadne nuzzled his balls gently, then took one into her mouth as she drew her nails along the inside of his thigh. Arthur jerked his hips slightly at the contact, which had Ariadne withdrawing to sit on her haunches. "No touching, Arthur."

"That can't possibly count!" he protested, making Eames laugh out loud.

"Of course it does," Ariadne told him sweetly. "So now you're getting a time out."

"You're fucking serious," Arthur said after a moment, when Ariadne made no movements at all and simply stared at him. His incredulous tone only made Eames laugh harder. "Shut up. You're not helping things," he said irritably, smacking Eames' shoulder.

"I don't see why you're mad at me," Eames replied loftily, leaning against the headboard as he let his hand slide across Arthur's throat. "I wasn't the naughty one."

Ariadne snickered at Arthur's mutinous expression. "How did I get to be stuck being the disciplinarian when the both of you are the hardened criminals?"

Eames let his eyes run down Ariadne's body. "Hardened is one word for it, love."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Ariadne..."

"Are you begging me yet?" she asked, sounding so very innocent.

"No."

"Then you wait until I feel like starting again."

Arthur made a huffing sound and tried to stare at the ceiling. "You're doing this for his benefit," he complained.

Ariadne stretched out on her stomach beside him, grinning at both of the men. "Is that jealousy I hear?" she taunted playfully, leaning down so that her lips brushed against a rib. He turned his head to watch her, but managed not to jerk at the contact. "Mmm. Much better."

"Now you're just being cruel," he accused.

"Absolutely," she said with a grin before closing her mouth over a nipple. Arthur sighed and clenched his hands into fists to keep from moving them. Eames supposed that he normally would touch her shoulder or run his fingers through her hair. He had liked doing that as she slept the night before, sprawled across the bed and comfortable in sleep. He slid a hand over Arthur's chest in an almost possessive gesture and watched as she started all over again, running her lips and tongue and fingers across Arthur's skin. His flagging erection had hardened even before she reached his navel. Arthur kept quiet, only making soft guttural noises as his eyes squeezed shut. "You're being very good," she murmured as her lips approached his cock and her hand closed over his balls. "Close to begging yet?"

"No," he said firmly, though there was a bit of strain in it.

Ariadne smiled. "I've got all night, Arthur. I'll get you there."

She completely bypassed his groin and then paid very careful attention to his thighs and knees. Without asking, Eames shifted position to stroke his arms and chest. Arthur let out an exasperated sigh and subtly shifted his legs further apart so that Ariadne could kneel between them. Lightly scratching on the inside of his thighs, Ariadne giggled when he jerked slightly at the sensation. She repeated the motion, then followed with her lips against the sensitive skin. Arthur's breath caught when her hair fell and dragged across his cock, but she made no other move to touch it.

"You are most definitely dangerous, Ariadne," Eames murmured, grinning at Arthur's strained expression. Ariadne made a little humming noise that was almost a chuckle, though her tongue was still tracing little lines and swirls across Arthur's leg. Her hands slid upward to rest along his stomach, her fingers stroking him softly. "Just give in, Arthur. You know you want to."

"I can outlast her," he insisted. "We've done this before."

"Yeah? Who won last time?"

Arthur's glower was answer enough, and Eames laughed delightedly at his distress. It was fascinating watching them together, and Eames sighed in contentment as he pressed his lips to Arthur's forehead. Ariadne chose that moment to lick down Arthur's length, giving a little flourish at the tip where moisture had beaded. Arthur sucked in a breath, turning his head to the side over his clenched fists. Eames let his fingers trail down over Arthur's temple in a light caress and nearly kissed him right there. He was startled when Arthur opened his eyes to look at him, longing in his gaze. "Doing all right there, Arthur?" he asked, meaning it to be playful. There was a rough quality to his voice, an undercurrent of desire he hadn't meant to reveal.

"Don't play with him yet," Ariadne ordered, her breath running over Arthur's moistened skin. "He has to beg, remember?"

Eames almost told her that he was tired of the game already, but his words were forgotten as he watched her close her lips over Arthur's erection. She ran her tongue down over the length of him, eyes closed and obviously enjoying herself. Her hands moved restlessly over Arthur's legs, stroking him softly. She paused to layer kisses along his thighs, to blow her breath over the length of him or lick swirling designs along his skin, as if she could sketch a city with her tongue. Arthur shifted one arm so that he could easily touch Eames; it wasn't breaking the rules at all, but it startled Eames just the same. Arthur's touch was feather light, a slight tremor as his fingers skimmed across Eames' knee. Arthur shivered beneath Ariadne's mouth, sucking in a breath to keep from speaking.

Though Arthur was naked and struggling to maintain control, Eames had no illusions about him. He was nowhere near as vulnerable as he seemed, though this had more to do with his trust in Ariadne. There was still strength inside of him, still that willfulness. They played at control games, but it wasn't truly about ownership. In spite of Ariadne's warning, Eames couldn't help but place his hand over Arthur's, letting his thick fingers slide between Arthur's slimmer ones. Arthur let out a soft sigh and let his head roll across his other hand. He looked tempted just to give in and beg Ariadne, but he was also a stubborn bastard and dead set on holding out as long as possible. Eames gave in and kissed Arthur, mouth open and tongue sliding into the other man's mouth. He responded immediately, a soft sound deep in his throat at the contact.

Ariadne wasn't in a rush. She hadn't been kidding in the slightest. She taunted Arthur by repeatedly sucking on his cock and handling his balls lightly, then backing off as soon as his breathing started to quicken. "I get the feeling Ariadne will do this literally all night, Arthur," Eames said, moving so that he could whisper into Arthur's ear. "She's stroking your thigh, but you know where you want her to be." Eames slid his own hand over Arthur's stomach, watching the muscles ripple beneath his touch. "Or do you want _me_ doing that?"

Arthur made an inarticulate sound of want. It wasn't a clear answer, so Eames merely closed his lips over Arthur's earlobe. His breath left him a rush, his hand tight on Eames' hip, pulling him closer. Perhaps that was an answer.

Ariadne hummed happily as she took off her blouse. She rubbed herself against Arthur's erect cock, making sure she made eye contact the entire time. She smeared the precome across her skin with a fingertip, then brought it down to the wet head. "You can make this go farther at any time, you know."

"I do not beg," Arthur replied through grit teeth. He was obviously very tempted to do so, and Ariadne's smile clearly told them that she knew it.

She merely ran her tongue along the ridge at the end of his cock, then down along the shaft until she sucked on his balls again. "She's got you by the balls, Arthur," Eames said helpfully. "Might be a good time to give in and just beg."

Eames and Ariadne both watched Arthur stubbornly shake his head. Ariadne smiled and started over again, her mouth hot and hovering over him but not touching. Her fingers slid across his stomach, then she placed small, feathery kisses across his stomach. "Missed a spot," Eames suggested helpfully, running a fingertip across Arthur's side. Arthur's breath was ragged, and Ariadne's smile at Eames made his stomach do flip flops.

"Thank you," Ariadne murmured, coming forward to kiss the stripe Eames had touched. She ran her body against Arthur's, deliberately letting the side of her bra brush against his cock. "Are you being shy?" she asked, wrapping her hand gently around him. "Because there's an audience?"

Arthur made a small inarticulate noise deep in his throat, his head thrown back as she began to stroke him. "Ariadne," he began, his voice fracturing. His grip on Eames' knee was growing punishingly tight as he struggled to maintain control. It wasn't ever as effortless as it looked, Eames realized. But he prized it, as well as his professional efficiency. It was part of who he was.

"Missed another spot," Eames remarked, running his fingers across Arthur's exposed throat. "A whole lot of spots, actually."

Ariadne obligingly leaned forward, her breasts pressed against Arthur's chest to kiss his throat. Her hand was still working him in a steady rhythm, and Arthur was gasping for breath. Eames shifted position slightly and dropped a kiss onto Arthur's forehead. He made a soft moan, shifting restlessly beneath Ariadne. Eames cradled the back of Arthur's head in one hand, feeling the soft hair against his palm. He seemed almost delicate for a moment, like someone Eames had to protect. It was startling to feel that kind of urge toward Arthur; Eames had always seen him as the consummate professional before, not someone that would need much protecting.

Arthur let out a frustrated moan when Ariadne withdrew her hand and simply kissed and nuzzled his neck. "Ariadne," he whined. "Please..."

"Did you say something?" she asked, tone lazy and amused at once. Eames merely shook his head with an amused smile, and kissed his forehead again.

"God..." he groaned, shifting beneath her mouth. He nearly reached out for her, but let his hand fall back into Eames' lap. "Please..."

"Please what?"

He made another soft frustrated sound, then let his breath out in a rush. "I need you," he whispered.

"I'm right here," Ariadne replied softly, letting her fingers trail across his chest. She wasn't budging in the slightest.

"Please, Ariadne," he moaned. _"Please."_ He sucked in an almost agonized breath. "I'm begging you," he said, voice soft and plaintive. "Please, please, you've got to finish. You've got to let me come..."

"How do you want it?" Ariadne asked him, rising to kneel beside him. She slowly drew the bra straps from her shoulders, then took it off. She managed to slide her panties and pants off at once, then kicked them off. She was kneeling in front of Arthur in nothing but her trouser socks and demure looking jewelry, her hair a messy halo around her head. "What do you need?"

"You. God, just... On top, please," Arthur whimpered, reaching for her finally. There was desperation in his eyes, but love too. He adored her, worshiped her with his gaze.

Ariadne straddled his waist and guided him into her. She sank down slowly, not above teasing him still, then began to rock slowly against him. Arthur slid his hands around her waist, pulling her closer, and her smile at him was that soft one that Eames called her lovestruck expression. Everything in her softened and glowed, and her hands running over his chest were gentle and soothing.

Arthur watched Ariadne's face intently as he ran his hands over her stomach and up to her breasts. His breath was ragged, and Ariadne's came in soft pants. She was louder than he was, but he tended to come across as reticent to Eames. It was part of the fun of winding him up so much. Now, Eames could see that everything was in his expression, in the dark cast to his eyes. He was looking at Ariadne as if he could devour her, as if he could melt into her skin if he only wished hard enough. Her head was thrown back, eyes closed as she reveled in the feel of him inside her, so she missed that gaze. Somehow Eames figured she knew about it anyway. He pulled back slightly, intending to allow them this moment together, but Arthur looked at him the same way and shook his head sharply. Eames left his hands where they were on his chest, rubbing small circles into his skin.

Ariadne leaned back to catch Arthur's thighs tightly in her hands. Arthur pulled at one of her nipples gently, and Ariadne gasped "Harder," as she started to move a bit faster. Arthur slipped a hand down between them to stroke at her clit, making Ariadne shudder and mewl almost helplessly. She started moving faster, head lolling on her shoulders, and she looked at Arthur with some difficulty. "Like that," she whimpered. "More, God, I need..." Her voice fractured when Arthur's fingers moved faster and harder over her clit, when he pulled and pinched at her nipple. Eames watched her rhythm falter as she shuddered and came. She leaned forward as she slowed, and gave Arthur a half smile. "Not yet?" He shook his head with a smile, and Ariadne started rocking against him again. "You feel so good," she gasped, staring him in the eye. Her gaze was just as intense as his had been earlier. "Like this, inside me. I love how you feel, like this, Arthur..."

Eyes squeezing shut, Arthur shifted his hips up as she came down against him, making her moan deliciously. She was moving faster, almost frantically, the bed squeaking beneath them as the entire frame rocked. If there had been a headboard, Eames was sure it would have banged into the wall. Arthur ran his hands along her back as he opened his eyes, dragging the blunt edges of his nails across her skin and smiling when she shivered. "Ariadne," he groaned softly, looking up at her. His expression was hard for Eames to interpret, but Ariadne seemed to know what it meant. Panting hard, she kept up her punishing pace until Arthur let out a hearty groan. He sank bonelessly into the bed, and Ariadne slowed down. When she stopped, she curled up around him and pressed her face against his neck.

It felt odd for Eames to be watching them so closely yet remain mostly uninvolved. It was almost nice, too. Further proof of how much they trusted him, even if he didn't feel it was deserved. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched Arthur's shoulder. He turned and looked at Eames with a content smile, and Ariadne moved a hand to cover his. They wanted him there, which still didn't make any kind of sense to him. Sometimes it did, and at other times insecurity kicked in. He still couldn't quite see himself through their eyes; maybe he was too afraid to try. He could be anyone and anything, could pick apart why people did the things they did. He could do it with Arthur and Ariadne if he wanted to, and sometimes found himself analyzing them the way he would a subject. He forced himself to stop, to move along and pretend he was an ordinary human being.

"Shit, I forgot condoms," Ariadne said abruptly, sitting up and staring at Arthur. Eames couldn't help but laugh at Arthur's gobsmacked expression, but managed to stifle it when her eyes swung toward him. "I mean, I brought them, but I forgot."

"Time to clean up anyway," Arthur sighed. They disentangled their limbs, and he caught Ariadne about the waist and pulled her close. "Whatever happens, we'll figure it out," he assured her. He kissed her softly, fingers brushing across her face tenderly. "Okay?"

She nodded and slipped into the bathroom to wash up. Arthur let himself fall back down onto the bed, missing Eames' injured leg by inches. He sighed and then glowered when he saw Eames' amused face. "What?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you lose control before."

Arthur let out a huffing noise. "Sure you have. You just didn't know it at the time. I'm very good at hiding panic. No one wants to hire someone that panics all the damn time."

Eames let the comment slide; he didn't see Arthur as the type to panic at all. "So you're working with Adeeb."

"Yeah. He's the one that hired on Pietro."

"Be careful," Eames told him without thinking.

Frowning, Arthur turned to him. "What aren't you telling me?"

"He has a long memory and likes lording it over everyone. Like a walking textbook, I'd say," Eames replied, beginning to ease himself off of the bed. The conversation was quickly growing serious, and it effectively drowned all the arousal he had felt. "Just be careful."

Arthur sat up and caught Eames' arm to make him turn back and face him. "Did something happen between the two of you I should know about?"

"You mean you _don't_ have a dossier on him?"

It took some effort not to sling another sarcastic comment at Arthur's surprised look. "Ariadne might've mentioned that you kept files on people," Eames offered.

"Are you upset that we're not all working together?" Arthur asked quietly.

"I'm a professional, Arthur," Eames replied, managing to inject an affronted tone to his voice. "I don't need you babysitting me for jobs."

He nodded. "That's what I thought. I don't work with Ariadne all the time either, but it's not something that should carry over into our personal lives."

Eames saw Ariadne hovering in the doorway out of the corner of his eye. "What's to carry over?" he asked flippantly. "Pietro brought you in on this one. I'm not complaining."

"I'd rather if you told me when something bothers you," Arthur began slowly. "I don't like having to second guess you."

"Rather late for that now, darling," Eames drawled. There was no pleasure in seeing Arthur flinch. If anything, he felt worse, as if he was deliberately stringing him along. He wasn't, but he didn't even know how to begin explaining just how fractured he really was.

"That's not what I meant," Arthur said, steel in his voice. "I'm _trying_ to say that we're not going to stop you from doing whatever work you want to do. That we're not going to ask that you work only with us. I don't know if that's what you thought this was going to be, since we were working together before."

He hadn't known what to expect, really. Arthur's constant consideration of his feelings kept throwing him for a loop. "Why aren't you brassed off?"

"No point," Arthur returned. He rubbed at his jaw tiredly. "Look. Whatever this is will take time to figure out. But work is separate. Whatever's happening in our personal lives shouldn't carry over into jobs if we work together. We've managed to work together when angry with each other before. It shouldn't be too different now."

Arthur was being reasonable, and Eames felt the urge to needle him, to make him angry. He could deal with angry. He didn't know how he should be dealing with reasonable. He _hated_ dealing with reasonable. "Adeeb will kill you if you fuck up," Eames told him abruptly. He could see Arthur's lips part slightly, knew that Arthur was probably taking his short attitude as worry and care. And maybe it was, but Eames didn't know if it was the same thing that Arthur thought it was. "He will kill you and he will leave parts of you all over Alexandria as a warning to everyone else not to fuck with him."

"I've been careful so far," Arthur said. "I've been laying things out, and it's a straightforward extraction."

Eames felt like a liar; he had told the truth, but it was almost as if he was using it to sidestep a question he wasn't ready to answer. "Just... keep it that way, yeah?"

He let Arthur pull him closer and kiss his forehead. "I promise."

Arthur never made promises lightly. He was too damn serious for that. Eames closed his eyes, not sure if he should say something else. The bed dipped under Ariadne's slight weight, and it was too intense to tolerate. "Did you think we were coming, then?" He opened his eyes and saw Arthur's frown of confusion. "King sized bed for just you?"

He laughed, sounding almost relieved, given the earlier intensity. "It was the only single nonsmoking room left in the hotel."

"It will have more space for us to sleep in. We should get a new one for our apartment, then," Ariadne offered, planting a kiss on his cheek. She smiled at Eames. "I won't have to worry about jostling your leg."

"Jostle me anytime," Eames purred automatically. He smiled at her playful grin, and they all got ready to sleep.

Eames wound up in the middle of them, Ariadne curling up on one side and Arthur careful of his wounded leg. "It's going to be all right," Arthur murmured softly as he pulled up the comforter. "Another week and this should be done. Then we'll be home, and you don't have to worry about Adeeb."

"Thanks," Eames replied, more for something to say. He wasn't as worried about Arthur as he seemed to think, not when it came to the job. He was a consummate professional, and he always made sure his back was guarded. It was why he had survived so long, even when things got messy.

Home. For the short time the three of them had been in Paris together, Eames had felt comfortable. It had been safe there, he realized. He hadn't worried about keeping up the same mask for them to see. If it slipped or shifted, he didn't worry about keeping a cover or having a ready explanation. Maybe that was what home was all about.

Carefully, Eames shifted in bed and kissed both Ariadne and Arthur. "Good night. Sweet dreams," he added in a lighthearted tone.

Arthur grinned at the two of them in the dark. "Always."

Eames didn't doubt him. He wouldn't lie about something like that, and neither would Ariadne. He wasn't sure if he still dreamed naturally anymore; sometimes he thought he did. Ariadne definitely did and perhaps Arthur did, too. If he did still dream, and if it was about either of them, Eames knew he would be all right. He was settled into their lives somehow, part of something larger than himself. It was as electrifying as it was terrifying, and he couldn't wait to see what happened next.

The End


End file.
